


don't make it weird

by urfriendlyneighborhoodpan



Category: Bleach
Genre: Consensual, F/F, F/M, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urfriendlyneighborhoodpan/pseuds/urfriendlyneighborhoodpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just three friends, doing what friends do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't make it weird

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a threesome involving ichihime and one other person, had a small vote on tumblr and Tatsuki had the most votes hands down. So.

It all comes together most unexpectedly, the playful suggestion and then the genuine curiosity. They stare wide-eyed and uncertain at one another and it is only when Tatsuki cracks a toothy and yet shaky grin that the silence is broken, and as in all things it is she who builds the necessary courage to go through with it.

The apartment Orihime shares with Ichigo is small, cramped with all the belongings they refused to part with. And while he spends a little time giving Tatsuki a proper tour, Orihime fidgets by the pantry searching for some snacks. None of them know how to do something like this. She and Ichigo have only ever been with each other, and Tatsuki teeters in and out of relationships constantly. Between the three, there is no doubt in their minds that Tatsuki is the more adventurous, and while part of Orihime warms in excitement at the thought of sharing something so special with the person dearest to her, a smaller part is afraid of what’s to come. And so she peers over the kitchen counter clutching a bowl of cheesy crackers and swallows around her pounding heart.

“Can’t bide our time now,” Tatsuki says, taking a small handful of crackers when Orihime offers them up. “We either do this or we don’t.”

Ichigo is the one to lead them into the bedroom, looking for all the world a small and terrified child. Their bed is large enough to hold the three of them and while Tatsuki busies herself with setting her bag down on the nightstand, he moves over to the window to shut the blinds and close the curtains. Orihime isn’t sure what to do with herself and so she decides for the simplest. She tosses the decorative throw pillows on the bed toward the ground, peeling back the comforter and smoothing her hands over the sheets nervously.

Tatsuki disappears into the restroom to wash her hands and Ichigo rifles through the other nightstand for the condoms. And so Orihime decides to take the next step, shedding her skirt and blouse and folding them on the desk. She isn’t wearing anything fancy underneath, something pallid and pink and cotton. Ichigo has told her before that she looks beautiful in most anything but she wonders if Tatsuki will share the same sentiment, casts a furtive glance at the drawer in the corner and thinks perhaps she has enough time to switch out for something lacy and appealing. But when she turns back toward the bed, he is watching her with a familiar look in his eyes, what rises goosebumps up her arms and renders her lightheaded.

He smiles gently, and follows her example. He never wastes a second, pulling off his clothes with very little thought and leaves a small pile by his feet he will pay more mind to next time.

Orihime considers herself for a moment, and then climbs onto the bed and settles at the center, and before Ichigo can say a word the bathroom door opens and Tatsuki steps back out, decidedly underdressed.

For a second, Orihime is filled with relief. Tatsuki wears a gray sports bra and red boy shorts, simple and so very much like her. But it is almost overcome by insecurity, that beating moment in which she cannot help comparing herself to the other woman. Tatsuki is toned, from head to toe, this perfect balance of muscle that immediately draws Orihime’s hands to the softness of her belly, the way her skin rolls just so, the way she creases and folds. She feels her face burn and her throat go dry and she is ashamed of herself, cannot hide this new fear quick enough from Tatsuki’s gaze.

And she catches it, easily, rushes forward and onto the bed to touch Orihime’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re beautiful,” Tatsuki tells her, and tucks a section of hair behind Orihime’s ear.

Orihime relaxes, and then jolts when she feels a familiar hand move along her back. Ichigo slides in on her other side and ghosts a kiss over her temple. For a moment, Tatsuki leans back and observes the way Ichigo touches her, how his fingertips skim over the line of Orihime’s jaw and the path he follows along her throat with his mouth. And in that moment Orihime allows herself to be lost in him, this all too familiar burning he starts up inside of her. She doesn’t at all expect the extra pair of hands moving in strokes across her tummy and lower back, the chapped lips pecking her forehead and then nose and then chin.

Tatsuki kisses her so sweet, so gentle and reverent, and it is not unlike the way Ichigo does. It eases Orihime back down from alarm and she melts, eyes fluttering shut and head tilting to return it. It is a confusing thing, she wants to focus on Tatsuki’s mouth, and how it tastes like cherry lip balm and bitter coffee, but Ichigo is mouthing along her shoulder, he is sliding his hand between her thighs and cupping her through her underwear. There are too many hands and Orihime isn’t sure where to turn. She doesn’t realize she is on her back until she feels Tatsuki’s weight leaning against her side, the mold of her lean body against her softer one.

These small hands glide over her arms, up her ribcage and over her chest. Ichigo is working down her belly, large hands cradling her hips as he trails along her waistband. Tatsuki is taking her earlobe into her mouth and Orihime feels so overwhelmed.

He tugs off her panties, pulls her thighs onto his broad shoulders and sets to work between them. His tongue slides over her already swollen lips and finds her clit so easily, so naturally. Orihime arches and moans and then jerks back when she feels Tatsuki’s hand slide around her back to unhook her bra, much quicker than Ichigo ever could. And so she is naked, writhing and whimpering underneath their attention.

Tatsuki cups her breasts and they overflow, fill both of her hands copiously and leave no room for more. Tatsuki licks her lips and smiles, repeats with much more awe this time, “You’re _beautiful_.”

And Orihime can’t breathe. Tatsuki kisses her way down and suckles at one nipple, touches her with much confidence. She nips and squeezes and licks and Orihime _can’t breathe_. She forces her eyes back open and she doesn’t know where to look. Ichigo’s head buried between her trembling thighs or Tatsuki, dear Tatsuki, teeth caught around her nipple and grinning up at her affectionately.

Ichigo’s tongue has worked its way inside of her, and Tatsuki reaches down and finds her nub without even looking, tweaks and pinches until Orihime falls apart beneath them. She bucks and moans and doesn’t notice them move until she comes back down, breathless and throbbing. They are sitting on either side of her, and she only catches the middle of their conversation.

“—not really into that,” Tatsuki is saying, reaching to pull off her sports bra without any mind toward where he looks.

But Ichigo does not glance down, he very easily maintains eye contact as if they’re both fully dressed and not at all in the middle of a threesome. “That’s fine. You can go first, if you want.” And he moves away for a moment to reach for the condoms.

Orihime has no time to wonder what they’re talking about. Tatsuki stands from the bed to peel off her shorts and then hops back on and in between Orihime’s legs in one move. She lines them together but stops to ask, “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” Orihime breathes, although she’s not entirely sure how to go about this. Tatsuki has only ever been with women and she isn’t sure how Ichigo will work into this at all.

Tatsuki lines them up, lowers down to her elbows and coaxes Orihime’s legs further apart. She angles her hips, and while the initial instinct Orihime has is to push her lower, toward her opening, Tatsuki rises until their clitorises can touch. And then she gyrates, rolls her hips in one slow and grinding move. This is all very new, and Orihime takes a moment to wonder if she enjoys this. Tatsuki can reach places that Ichigo cannot; they are so close in height and Ichigo is so tall in comparison she never knew what she’d been missing out on until just this moment.

And Tatsuki ducks to kiss her chest, to suck her skin red and irritated. And Tatsuki nibbles her lower lip, slides her tongue between her teeth and curls it over hers. The pace is quick and even and Orihime soon matches it, folds her arms around Tatsuki’s slight shoulders and presses their breasts flush together.

This is so new, this is so new, and so much to take in at once. It doesn’t take very long for Orihime to finish and so Tatsuki reaches between them and works at herself, never stopping once until they are both hissing and trembling and fulfilled.

And yet still aching for more.            

Tatsuki plants a light peck on her eyebrow and extracts herself, raising her arms to stretch and letting out a loud breath. There is a thin line of small black hairs beneath her belly button, and between her legs there is a patch of dark curls. Her hips are narrow and her legs are prickling, unshaven, but she oozes self-assurance so completely Orihime can’t help envying her this. Ichigo has never made comment on the hair on _her_ body, and even now he does not point out Tatsuki’s, but she has gone through such pains to remove it she had just assumed he would if she didn’t.

“Never been with a dude before,” Tatsuki comments offhandedly, and idly watches him roll the condom on. “But if it has to be anyone, I’d rather it be you.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, and comfortably reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“This involves the three of us,” Orihime pipes up, slowly shutting her legs. “But if you’d prefer it to be me, that’s okay, too, Tatsuki-chan.”

“Just,” Tatsuki gestures, and then sighs. “I’m not gonna lie, the idea is kinda gross to me. Not that you’re gross, exactly; I guess you’re handsome --”

“Don’t make it weird,” Ichigo says.

“It’s up to you,” Tatsuki says to Orihime, serious now. “What would _you_ like to do?”

Tatsuki lays back against the pillows looking decidedly confused. The couple is moving around her, a question and the answer both conveyed in a single glance. Orihime places a pillow under her stomach and settles down between Tatsuki’s thighs. Ichigo is behind Orihime, this dark and indecipherable look in his eyes that Tatsuki has never seen before. He traces Orihime’s back with these slow and unhurried strokes, leans down just so and molds a kiss to her shoulder, up to the nape of her neck and the back of her head, and here he places a hand atop it to gently guide her down until she is nestled more fully against Tatsuki. His other hand disappears underneath her and from the way Orihime lurches forward with a breathless gasp, Tatsuki figures he must be preparing her for him.

Orihime is all too timid going about this task, pressing light and uncertain kisses along Tatsuki’s hips and hesitating before moving down toward the slit of her. She spends too long focusing on her inner thighs and just as she feels herself growing impatient she hears Ichigo murmur something gently into Orihime’s shoulder.

A soft apology, and he tentatively reaches around to part Tatsuki’s lips for Orihime, and before Tatsuki can question this a warm, wet tongue slides bashfully inside of her. He immediately retracts his hand with another apology, but Tatsuki is already letting herself melt underneath Orihime’s mouth. She shakes her head thoughtlessly and she can vaguely hear Ichigo chuckle, “You’re her first, she’s never done that before.”

Tatsuki has a retort for that somewhere, but Orihime’s smooth fingers are sliding in alongside her tongue and this fullness is so good, so _good_. It is a few minutes of slow and uncertain, this ironic sort of gratitude that Ichigo is there, mumbling encouragements into Orihime’s ear, before another finger is added and Orihime redirects her attention to the swollen nub at the crest. A little kiss, and Orihime swirls her tongue around it wetly and sucks her into her mouth.

Tatsuki arches off the bed with a choked cry, cracking in the middle when she suddenly feels Orihime jolt, feels the vibrations of her moans from between her legs. It all spikes up her spine and out her mouth and her toes curl in. Ichigo is moving behind Orihime, rolling his hips and holding her by hers. He does not watch Tatsuki; he does not steal this moment from her selfishly.

This is hers. All hers.

And so Tatsuki reaches back to clutch at the pillow underneath her head and rolls her own nipple between her fingers, sparking her own collapse as eagerly as Orihime laps at the juices collecting against her mouth.

Ichigo does not move too fast or too hard, he seems as determined to make his girlfriend finish as she is to make Tatsuki. His hand pushes back under her to stroke between her thighs and this is the first time Tatsuki has ever felt somebody make those noises against her; humming whimpers, wobbly moans, soft cries and burning renditions of his name.

He says something but through all this haze Tatsuki cannot make out what it is, Orihime is so gently nibbling at her she can’t even think straight. Those slender fingers push deeper within her, twist at the wrist and prod along for some point inside of her.

“Ah— _wai_ —” Tatsuki tries to get out, but her fingertips press firmly against that one little spot and she’s _gone_. Something snaps within her and she comes crashing down immediately, grasping at the sheets and rising off the bed. She is boneless and sobbing and quivering against the mattress, hissing and flinching away from Orihime’s tongue, oversensitive now.

And so she watches breathlessly as Ichigo brings Orihime to fruition, pressing her down into the bed with these strong, even thrusts. She watches Orihime’s eyes flutter shut, her fingers curl into the pillow underneath her and her mouth fall open a slight. She cannot bring herself to look at the man behind her, but he is not loud. He sighs and grunts and whispers these sweet nothings that make Tatsuki wince a little.

Part of her feels as if she is watching something she shouldn’t. But Orihime lays these kisses against the insides of Tatsuki’s thighs, as if to remind her she is no outsider here.

Whatever Ichigo is doing, it works wonders. The hand still working underneath Orihime brings forth these loud and keening whines, make her eyes roll back a little and brow furrow deeply. When she comes down, she opens her mouth on a wordless cry and holds very still. It is the first real sound Ichigo makes, this low groan of her name and a hiss between his teeth.

The cleanup is somewhat different. Ichigo pulls out before he goes completely flaccid, grasping at the base of himself to hold the condom in place. And when he pulls it off he knots it at the end so that nothing spills out, pausing to press a soothing kiss to Orihime’s back before climbing off the bed to toss it into the trashcan by the nightstand. And then he vanishes into the bathroom, returning with a damp hand towel just as Orihime pushes herself up to sit. Orihime wipes Tatsuki dry first, and then herself.

“Was that okay?” she asks, and Tatsuki smiles affectionately.

“That was great.”

Ichigo is pulling on his boxers again, sitting down beside Tatsuki as Orihime excuses herself for the bathroom. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s the first I’ve been like this in front of a dude,” Tatsuki says, and when she looks around for her underwear he immediately moves to pluck them from the floor and hand them over. As she pulls back on her sports bra, she tells him, “But I trust you, and you didn’t make me feel wrong for who I am, so.”

“You’re Tatsuki,” he says, leaning back on his hands almost casually. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect—”  

“Don’t make it weird.”

Orihime returns with a pleased little smile on her face, pausing to pull on her panties and Ichigo’s discarded shirt, and gathers up the comforted in her arms. They pull it out across the bed and she climbs in between them.

“Do you like cuddling, Tatsuki-chan?”

.x.

**Author's Note:**

> So. 
> 
> My tumblr is captainrenji-abarai. Any requests, let me know!


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